The Shades of His Passion
by Seth da Hooded Bandit
Summary: Lord Arthur Kirkland is invited over to a neighboring lord's manor following the death of his wife. Strange how the widower isn't consumed with grief, and this other lord may not be so interested in merely talking. FrUK. Rated M for a reason!


**Author's Note: **I don't know if I'm more proud that I wrote something like this, a lot better than I have before, or if I'm more utterly embarrassed. / *runs away to hide forever* Basically porn without plot. Enjoy~!

**Song Inspiration: **"Bedroom Hymns" by Florence and the Machine

*Also, this was finished at like midnight, so it's not proofread well. Feel free to point out mistakes or anything else.

* * *

The soft sound of rain tapped restlessly against the aged window, finally free of the dull dark clouds that swam in the April sky above the still London streets. Even nobles in this city had to endure the dark rainy days once in a while. Some were rained on more than others, and a particular strong storm was in the midst of drowning one of the younger nobles in the rich side of town. A young man who recently became a widower.

He was seated at the dark mahogany table in his dining parlor, a fresh cup of tea growing cold that was given to him by a concerned servant placed before him. He was spending his time looking around the room, now looking more plain and gloomy than ever.

The gold trimmed walls with beautiful designs wouldn't reflect the same beautiful light they did, once reminding him of his good fortune by how it lustered and shimmered. The long brown curtains were pulled shut, shrouding the room with cold shadows in the corners, sucking the life out of the once-happy room. The paintings on the walls were graying over and didn't seem to look so exquisite anymore.

The rest of the small manor was much the same way. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. There was no joy, no happiness, no life. Indeed, two lives and not just one had been lost within that mansion, and the very soul of the house seemed to die out as well, once its masters had been lost.

The servants tried their best to be uniform, to still serve their master. But, like everything else in the house - they were drained and dreadful. Most were silent when they encountered the master, unless they needed to speak to make him understand something. All of them, though, had stopped asking questions. Had stopped smiling at him. Had stopped reporting in that they had finished their tasks. It just didn't seem right to anymore. The master himself had sensed the change, and was beginning to grow disturbed to it. It was making him lonely, and he was far more lonely than he was sad.

Oh, of course he was still in shock about the death of his wife, as any man would be. He still couldn't venture upstairs to their bedchamber, as he could still see her face paling against the copper of her body, the loose limbs that just fell to her side, the creak of the rope when it swayed against her weight. He instead began to sleep in the guest bedchamber, and even after she was gone, he couldn't return back upstairs. But, his grief had mainly died away - leaving him a hole of burning loneliness. Nothing would be the same ever again, but was it shameful that he wished to at least be happy again? To not have Michelle's departure hanging over his head? He didn't know how to answer that.

There was a knock at the door, to which he could hear from his seat at the table. A servant quickly rushed by to answer the door, so he didn't have to move himself from his chair. Finally tired of simply looking at the delicate cup of tea, he picked it up in pale fingers and brought the beautifully carved cup to his lips and took a small sip. The flavor was as nice as ever, but he just wasn't feeling the drink. He set the little cup back on its saucer and pushed it away with a pair of fingers. The servant came back in and said in a soft voice, "Mr. Charles Lane is here for you, my lord."

He nodded, "Send him in." The servant bowed out and Mr. Lane came in right after, closing the door behind him. The widower spoke with more vocal clarity, this unexpected guest making him a bit curious, "I apologize if I do not seem like a hospitable host."

"Don't apologize, my lord. Though it does seem that the manor has grown...bleak."

"I suppose it has," he said with a sad smile, "it has been several weeks, I doubt this manor will ever return to its former splendor, I'm afraid." He took in a good breath, stopping himself before he began to lament to his guest, "No matter, what business brings you to my quiet home?"

Mr. Lane pulled a crisp letter from his coat pocket, sealed with wax and held it out to the lord in his fat fingers. Recognizing the seal immediatley, he took it from the messenger and opened it up with the sharpened letter opener that the man had for use. Reading out the letter in silence, his eyes took in the words of an invitation to the house of which the messenger was serving.

"Why would he invite me over to the estate at a time like this?" the lord asked.

"It didn't occur to me, my lord. Is this not a good time for you?"

"No, it's alright. Tell him I'll be there."

"I shall. I wish you a good day," the short and somewhat stout man said politely before standing and making his way out to the door, a servant closing the heavy door with a strong and prominent _click_.

* * *

He leaned against the rustic wood of the well-made carriage, peering through the dark brown curtains that adorned the interior to look at the passing cobblestone street. The pale gray clouds in the sky were the only proof of the rain storm that had occurred yesterday. He could tell that they were getting closer to the mansion, so he began to sit back up against the brown cushions of his seat.

There was a knot of anxiousness twisting in his gut, and no matter of breathing would soothe him. He tried to focus on staring at the curtains or the floorboards, but nothing would help. There wasn't anything he could do, so he let the strange sensation of nervousness bite and prick at the pit of his stomach.

The carriage creeped to a stop within ten more minutes, and the lord sat still inside, waiting for the driver to open the door. A stroke of anxiety crawled up his spinal chord once the door was pulled open, and the driver extended his hand for the passenger to get out. He took the hand of the driver, not typically common of him, and stepped out. He looked up to take in the gorgeous elegance of the manor.

The large building was covered by large arch windows, with vines climbing up its walls, home to beautiful roses in full bloom. A large fountain was the centerpiece for guests to enjoy as they walked up to the front door. The building itself was taller than it was wide, more common with those who had recently acquired their money. Those who had inherited their wealth were fond of the wider houses with perpendicular wings. Colossal masses of shrubbery and greenery standing in the front gave hint to the magnificent garden at the back of the manor. Several of his nerves were subsided by the familiar sight, but some still clung to his limbs. He walked slowly up to the steps to the heavily carved dark wooded door, being greeted by one of the servants. "Good day to you, Lord Kirkland, the master has been expecting your presence," he greeted, unlatching the door and opening it for him. When the lord stepped inside, the servant closed the door again and requested, "Please follow me."

He had been in the manor a few times, but every time he entered it, he continued to be blown away by the lavishes. While the outside of the manor was a pale brown stone coloring, the interior was covered in reds and golds. Golden vases, plates, and paintings were decorated superiorly to match the colors of the accents of the high walls. Anywhere there was a table, it would hold a vase of fine red roses. Along with the main hall, he had only seen several parlors, the library, and the ballroom - but not much else. He wondered if the rest of the manor was covered in the passionate red that seemed to exist everywhere. Probably.

It was strange to be by himself in this place. He had only been to the manor to attend soirees and balls with a plethora of other rich guests, never having been invited to dabble with the master himself. It likely was because of Michelle. The master and her had been friends of sort, he supposed.

The servant led him out of the main hall to a smaller open chamber that served passage to the vast garden. The master of the manor was there, a glass of red wine in his fingers, and when he noticed that his guest of honor had arrived, he waved off his servants to leave them. He was as handsome and put together as always; crisp and obviously new gray blue suit with a red tie, perfectly polished shoes, his long blond hair tied up in a red ribbon that clashed harshly with the bright blue eyes he had. He gave the fellow noble a welcoming smile, though it wavered a little when he didn't receive one in return.

Nevertheless, he spoke merrily, "Arthur, I'm glad you could make it," striding up to the other blond, he offered, "Would you like a glass of wine yourself?"

"Why did you invite me here, Francis?"

The master raised one of his eyebrows in curiosity to this serious behavior, "You won't even let me be a proper host? _Mon cher,_ this is only a discussion between friends."

"I'm sure 'friends' is open to interpretation. And, the word 'discussion' doesn't sound right coming from you."

"You're not much fun, are you? Relax," he poured Arthur a glass of wine, and handed it to him, "I don't bite...much." The other lord refused to entertain him in his game, and merely took the glass without a word. Francis smiled, "Very well, walk with me," he held out his hand to tell Arthur to follow after him, and he did so.

Francis was leading Arthur through a part of the manor he had never seen before, taking his time to look at the decorations, rather than at the master. The other man was finding it a bit irritating.

"These silent walls are entertaining you more than me, _mon ami_?" the French-speaker asked, with faux hurt lacing his words. The quiet words easily bounced off the walls, rebounding into his ears.

"If you'd like to entertain me, then start getting to the point of summoning me. You know enough from Michelle that I'm not very patient."

"She's part of the reason I invited you to my lovely home today, and I'd like to say how sorry I am that she's left this world at so young. And in such a way..."

"If you were truly sorry, you would have visited me at my manor to pay your respects in person. While she was still dangling from the ceiling," he said tartly. Only several of her close friends had shown up for the funeral, and Arthur himself had been conflicted on going to it at all, considering that it was likely his own fault that she had done that to herself. Quite aplenty of the nobles he had asked to come hadn't cared enough about her, apparently, to go.

"That was incredibly regrettable on my part, my apologies."

"There's nothing to apologize for anymore. She's dead and buried."

"I see..." Francis mused, not taking the point any further with him. He instead asked, "Are you coping well?"

"My house seems to have shut down after her death. I'm less sad than I am lonely nowadays. All my servants are mute to my face for the most part. Michelle is no longer in this mortal world. I have no one there anymore. Just a depressing house that holds her memory in it's walls."

"Will you live somewhere else? Will you burn it down?"

"Don't be daft. I'll sell the manor to some rising millionaire who bids the highest."

"You don't seem very...mournful that Michelle has passed, not to offend you."

"I was before, but she didn't 'pass'. She committed suicide."

"Is there a difference?"

"I consider there to be one," Arthur sighed bitterly, "I don't consider it passage when someone drove you to death; murder, suicide, or otherwise."

Francis gave a brief smile when he reached the room he was leading Arthur to, and opened up the door for him, "You believe she was forced to kill herself?"

"She wasn't foolish, you know that," he stepped inside the room, what appeared to be a small private parlor, where a couple of servants had set out a wine bottle in an iced-filled tin tub. The two nobles took a seat. Francis thanked his servants and sent them away, so that the two men could talk in privacy.

"Was her husband the fool?" Francis asked honestly, causing Arthur to jolt in his seat.

Arthur sighed, "I should have never married her. She had me found out within a year of marriage. She'll never have known true love because of me, she'll never have children."

Francis set down his wine glass, acting like he wasn't going to have more, and stood back up, walking without rush over to the door on the opposite side of the tiny parlor. He motioned for Arthur to stand as well, and the younger noble stepped around the expensive table holding the wine over to the older blond.

"Why do you think that was, _mon cher?_" he asked, pushing down the handle to open up to another room, Arthur peering between the interior and back at Francis. The other man went on, "You're a faithful man, were you not?" He smiled, finding his question rhetorical, "Yes, of course you were. You wouldn't intentionally try to hurt darling Michelle. But, I can tell that your eyes weren't made to stay on her. They move. They drift along to look at others," Francis pushed on Arthur's back to step inside the room. It was his bedroom, the walls a pale red - almost like a raspberry red. There were dark red drapes that covered the ceiling, and seemed to wrap the room around the bed. Rose vases were present on the two mahogany tables to the side of the bed, and fresh rose petals were sprinkled around the bed, not as much on the bed itself, but still enough for him to see. Francis closed the door, choosing to ignore the newfound question that he could tell was forming on Arthur's tongue, and went on, "but, did you have some other_ woman _you wanted to look at?" He stepped closer to Arthur, leaning in towards him, causing the darker blond to blush, "No, you were looking at the _men_."

Arthur blushed a darker shade and spat, "What in the hell led you to that conclusion?! You barely even know me, you bastard!"

Francis smirked, "I may not know you well, but my eyes don't lie, _sot_. I watched your eyes follow some of the men around at the soirees. You would deny that those two American millionaires weren't incredibly handsome? The Spanish prince wasn't delectable to look at? That Japanese diplomat wasn't cute? You must have stared at them long enough to have thought so. However, when a lady came up to offer you a dance or a drink, you merely brush them all away. Don't tell me you haven't been staring at _moi _when you think I don't notice. Just admit it. You couldn't love Michelle because she was a woman, and you don't want women."

Arthur growled, "You're delusional-"

"There's no shame in saying it to me."

"There sure as hell is admitting something like that to a bastard like you," he snapped, "Damn it all, what are you planning on doing? Blackmailing me just because I was born insane for whatever reason?!"

"Why do you think I've remained a bachelor this long, then?" Arthur blinked and Francis's smirk deepened, "I know what is expected of men. I also know that I'm not going to marry a woman just because I'm supposed to, like you did."

With a pout, Arthur retorted, "I thought I loved Michelle, until..."

"...you found out what was wrong with her, that she could satisfy your taste because she was a woman? Let me tell you that you are not insane; not anymore than I am, _cher_." Francis raised a hand to cup one of Arthur's cheeks, "There's absolutely no shame in loving your own sex."

"You're speaking to me as if I would know what that was like," he was growing to like the feeling of that warm palm on his cheek, but maintained his frown to cover it up.

"I figured that you wouldn't have, I did say that you were faithful. Poor, deprived lamb," he leaned in even closer and whispered, "If you're interested, I could fix that for you."

"Francis, this is...!" Arthur was about to begin protesting when the man he was accusing locked his beautiful blue eyes with his forest green ones. His were narrowed on him so much that they were practically bright blue burning embers. He couldn't help but blush so much that his ears turned red as well.

"I'm being serious, _mon cher_. Watching you for all that time was not just to watch you stare at _other men_," he hissed, evident jealousy seething from his straight white teeth. He adjusted his palm to hold Arthur's chin, his thumb running over his pale pink lips.

Oh hell, what matter of beast had he awaken within this man? This incredibly handsome stranger of a man...?

Fingers laced themselves to caress his jawline, urging the other man to collapse into his hold. Another set of fingers gathered at his neck, skimming down the clean white shirt of his suit to trap the ribbon coiled around his neck in two fingers, stroking the dark blue cotton, and pulling loose the elegant bow it had been placed in.

Arthur felt himself submit, nuzzling Francis's soft fingers with affection. Damn the fact that this was some familiar stranger. Damn his pride. Damn it all to hell. His brilliantly blazing touch was igniting him from within, causing heat to coil in his gut and making him tremble ever so slightly against him. He wanted to know what it was he was deprived of,he wanted to know what Francis could give him, he wantedso much _more _of that touch.

"Let me show you real love, my Arthur," he whispered, releasing the ribbon from it's confined bow and bringing one of the ends up to his lips, closing his eyes briefly while his lips grew into a satisfied smile, then opened them to look up at his flustered desire. Leaning up to the other's lips, he breathed against them, "Will you let me in...?" His arm that once held that ribbon snaked around his neck, bringing them together. His parted lips allowed his tongue to slide out to greet the foreign mouth, his eyes sliding shut once again as his tongue ran over Arthur's bottom lip slowly, sensually.

Arthur's eyes felt far too heavy to stay open, and his lips opened, welcoming the stranger to come inside. He pressed his body up against Francis's, feeling even more aroused with the pressure between their chests, while locking his hands together around Francis's neck, cradling and twisting the thick golden strands of hair resting at the base of that fine neck in slick palms.

Knowing all too well how to accept such a polite invitation, the Frenchman ran his tongue over the lip again before sliding into his mouth, pushing on the back of Arthur's head to get even closer. Lips connected, and fingers curled in excitement. His tongue ran over the top of Arthur's, asking to play, and at once the two of them were batting at each other, the men tilting there heads to ignite more of the passionate sparks when they first kissed.

A beloved moan was pulled from the younger blond at once when their tongues twisted together, a jolt of arousal coursing down both of their bodies in return, pooling to their groins. Even in only one kiss, the heat was growing too much for the men, and yet they only wanted more and more of it. Arthur pushed back into the kiss, harder, demanding more friction between them. Francis, in turn, licked around his lips again and within the caverns of his hot mouth. Oh it was just too much!

They broke for air, Arthur seizing his chance to speak, "Francis...please..." he groaned softly, pressing his cheek against the side of Francis's face, loving the feel of the short stubble pricking against his smooth skin, "Give me more..." He fell back into sweet panting, harmonized with Francis.

Instead of a vocal answer, Francis seized both of Arthur's cheeks in his palms and brought him back in another fiery kiss, lips opening and closing around each other in a passionate frenzy. He dropped his hands from Arthur's face to his own chest, sliding his fingers out to push the buttons of his suit jacket through their respective holes to free him of the too-tight clothing. Letting it fall to the floor and the sound reaching Arthur's ears only excited him further, grasping onto one of Francis's cheeks with his palm. Francis proceeded to strip himself of his tie and shirt, leaving his chest exposed to the hungry look in Arthur's, currently squeezed tight, eyes. It had to take the older blond pulling away in need of breath in order to make apparent to the other man that his upper half was bare.

The younger male ran his fingers over the strong, but smooth, shoulder blades and down his back, his fingers enjoying the touch. Francis almost laughed with how much Arthur was just so enticed by merely feeling him, when the fun had just barely taken off. The man began working at the buttons of Arthur's own suit, craving skin to skin contact himself. The buttons easily slid out, and the jacket was removed, the vest and the shirt following suit as well within a minute. Pale ivory skin awaited his eager eyes, unscathed and _perfect. _He supposed he could see why Arthur was so fascinated with touching him, as the man himself felt so smooth and divine.

He grasped onto the smaller man's shoulders and leaned down to kiss around the base of his neck, pushing against Arthur with enough force to make him step back as he moved forward. With enough pushing, Arthur found his back pinned to the wall directly in front of the tail of Francis's large king bed. He moaned blissfully as he felt that expert tongue running down the front of his chest, licking and leaving kisses in it's wake. His fingers were traveling down his arms to his side, skittering down to his hips to push his fingers teasingly past the hem of his pants, before crawling right back up again.

Arthur felt _worshipped _by this God of a man, he had never felt so good in his life. At least, not until that tongue lapped at one of his nipples, turning it pert and red and making the receiving end moan loudly, his fingers digging into the dominate's back in the heat of euphoria. Francis's hand on the opposite side was giving the other nipple a massage with his thumb, also making it become hard and eager. Arthur curled his toes into a couple of the rose petals that had been caught under his feet, yowling in pleasure, weak to Francis's tongue, now running over the planes of Arthur's stomach. The organ delved into his navel and down towards his hemline, but didn't pursue further. Francis instead came back up to kiss Arthur harshly, his hands grabbing onto Arthur's ass, causing him to cry out in approval.

"I've barely touched you, and you're already like this," the Frenchman teased. Arthur was so incredibly hypersensitive, it was amazing. He must have known next to nothing about being loved. The poor deprived _petit lapin_.

"Shut up...!" Arthur snapped, rearing his head to look away, out of sexual frustration. It was a damn miracle he could still protest while Francis was pleasing him like this. He was squeezing and kneading the globes of his ass through his trousers like he was a baker moulding dough, and his thumbs were pinching against his hips. Arthur didn't know there were so many places that could be touched to feel so damn great. No matter where Francis put his hands and mouth, it was only driving his arousal up further. He wasn't going last long, he could already feel his cock swelling in his trousers beyond comfort, pressing against the unforgiving fabric. Just feeling it pulse and throb in need made his fingers dig a little deeper into Francis's back.

He opened his mouth to scream out for the older man to take the damned trousers off and help him along in some way, but all that would come out were strangulated noises, convincing both of them that he was in Nirvana. Creaking one of his eyes open, he somehow managed to wonder throughout all the stimulation that he was being gifted with, if Francis was feeling as aroused as he was. Managing the other eye open, he removed one of his hands from Francis's firm back to reach down to his front to feel.

However, before he could even make the barest minimum of contact, the Frenchman was two steps ahead and smacked his hand away from his crotch, chuckling, "This experience is entirely for you, _amour_. Just lie back and let me pleasure you."

Arthur protested, "If you really want to pleasure me, then take my- _ah_ _fucking hell_! Take my pants off already!" The Englishman buried his face in Francis's neck, whimpering when he felt fingers caress his hemline again, this time pushing his fingers into his trousers, stroking at the clothed skin. He took his sweet time playing around before removing his hands to finger the button free of it's hole and sprung the trousers open.

Francis slid his palms down his backside to his rear once again, pulling down the finely tailored pants as he stroked downwards, stopping at his knees before he knelt down before him to pull them down further. Lifting up one of Arthur's trembling legs, he pulled off his pointed shoes and black socks before pursuing forward with removing the slacks. Once everything other than his undergarments were discarded, Arthur whined when he saw the perverse expression that crossed Francis's face. The younger blond fought his own self-consciousness while the elder was running his hands up smooth milky pale thighs, nuzzling them with his own face as well. However, his blue eyes only interested in what was lying underneath his briefs. All it took was a single finger brushing over the bulge in his underwear to make Arthur's entire face flush a bright red, as bright as the reds covering the bedroom, when he wailed out.

With a single tug, the briefs were pulled down his legs, erection springing out in need of immediate attention. Beads of pre-cum had already began dripping down the shaft from the bright red head, making Francis aware of how close to the edge Arthur was. So turned on so quickly, Francis was on cloud nine with how much of an effect he had on this man. Running his palms back to cup his ass, Francis leaned forward to take the blushing head into his mouth, tongue swirling at the very tip immediatley.

Arthur moaned when he could feel himself inside the hot cavern, unable to hold back a buck of his hips, driving his cock deeper past Francis's lips. The dominant blond wasn't bothered by it all that much, but should his receiver continuously thrust into his throat, it might stir his gag reflex. So, to take precaution, he placed more pressure on his palms to hold Arthur's hips to the wall before hallowing his cheeks to begin sucking.

Both pairs of eyes closed, and Francis began to slide his tongue over the hot organ once Arthur seized his blond locks in white-knuckled fists, fighting to urge to move and thrust again. He took that as a cue to begin bobbing his head up and down, humming against the shaft to provide more stimulation, taking him all the way inside to wear his nose rested against the main portion of his body, and the base was in his mouth, receiving the same stimulation. One of his hands moved from one of his cheeks to between his legs, fingering behind the base of the organ to cup his balls in his palms, Arthur screaming out and bucking his hips out of instinct. He was just _so close. _How had he managed to hang in for this long anyway?

Francis was more than tempted to remove his lips from Arthur's twitching rod to lick his sac, but he figured that he would get an opportunity to do so soon. He wouldn't let the lord walk out of his home with merely experiencing just oral. He had so much more in store for his beautiful lover.

He, instead, decided to finish him off with his mouth, giving another long and hard suck to his cock before opening his lips up to slide his tongue off him to the tip, going back to running his tip of his wet organ over Arthur's slit. That beautiful image was enough for the thick eyebrowed man to get off, and with a final thrust of his hips, he spilled his creamy white ejaculation over Francis's tongue and face, the Lord's name on his lips.

Slumping against the wall, he tipped his head back, trying to take in oxygen to replenish his lungs, and Arthur released the tension in his body, closing his eyes.

"I hope you aren't all that tired, _mignon_, we've only just begun." Those words pulled Arthur from his trance, looking down at the cum covered face that Francis was sporting, wondering how the blond could continue to smile with all that sticky seed on him. The question died away immediatley, however, after Francis's pale pink tongue crept past his lips to lick at the semen clinging to his cheeks.

Arthur's cock twitched at the sight, beginning to grow hard again. Unable to help himself, he squatted down in front of Francis, taking the sides of his face in his hands and pressing his own tongue to his cheeks, helping to clean away the cum.

Francis replied, "I told you before, today is only for your pleasure," when Arthur continued licking away the semen, the older man insisted, "You don't have to do that if you don't want to."

"I want to," Arthur murmured into his ear, before resuming the tongue bath for Francis's face. Even _this _was arousing to him, and the pit in his stomach was starting to boil again. He just hoped that whatever Francis would want to do next would take place on the bed instead, not that the wall wasn't bad, but he'd rather be comfortable with all of this going on. When he finished licking away his cum - he didn't liked how salty it was, and that it was his own, but cleaning it off of Francis seemed to make those cons trivial - the dominant male grinned at how Arthur had already become aroused again from merely licking him, glad that he probably wouldn't mind a round two.

Arthur spread his legs a little after a minute, looking displeased, "Why aren't you doing anything? You're not just going to let my erection die, are you?" Francis supposed he hadn't tossed out all of his pride, at least not yet.

Well, he couldn't wait around for Arthur to get upset with him and leave, now could he? Standing to his feet slowly, and offering his palms to the slightly thinner lord to help him stand up, he led the now upright man over towards the bed. If this had been another situation, he would have probably scooped him up like a bride and thrown him on the bed to ravage him immediatley, but this situation called for slow and sweet lovemaking. Patience was key in all this, and even if Arthur managed to get to the edge a bit quickly, Francis had to go steady in order to really reach every nerve within the man. The point of this was to show him how sex was supposed to be done, how amazing one could feel afterwards. Not to fuck him fast and toss him out.

The pair climbed onto the bed, upsetting some of the rose petals that had been sprinkled on top of the covers, and their limbs slowly tangled as they went in for another heated kiss. They were starved for kisses, as if they hadn't kissed already within the last little while, Arthur was sitting on his knees to corner Francis against his headboard, all too eager to take in his tongue and to follow the push of the hands on the back of his head and neck. Bodies pressed together, backs arched inward, sweat mingled and dripped down them, the room was just growing far too hot for them. The older knew that they couldn't get too hot without doing anything besides making out, so he decided to get a bit of a move on.

He shoved Arthur out of the kiss, pushing him to the covers of the bed. He pinned down his wrists, squeezing them in his palms to see if Arthur would relax. They were getting roasted with all the passion, and the Frenchman was wondering if the devices he had set up beforehand would work. The insignificant thought crossed his mind for no more than a few seconds, as he was grinding his hips into Arthur's lap, smirking at how the Englishman was pitifully bucking his hips with need. He seemed so desperate and hungry for Francis. If only he could see himself_. _This prideful young lord giving away his barely tainted virtue to his departed wife's friend. Oh, if he hadn't been so caught up in the act he would be livid and mortified even.

But who knows? Arthur always seemed to have a way of surprising him.

"T-take your clothes off..." the green-eyed lord hissed in desperation. He needed to see this man fully. All this pleasure he was giving him, he wanted to return it in some way. It would make him feel equal.

"My pleasure, _mon petit lapin_," the blue-eyed one was more than happy to oblige, unbuttoning his own trousers and sliding them down his body. He was kicking off his shoes and socks before pulling off his pants and undergarments in one swoop, exposing himself to the man underneath.

Arthur's breathing hitched slightly, his face turning a bright pink at the sight of Francis's penis pressing against his stomach, already leaking heavily. _That _was going inside of him. He hadn't thought about how large it would be to take in on a receiving end, but his expectations had fallen far below reality. He whimpered, finally putting his eyes back on Francis's face, and the man above him only gave an amused grin.

"I need you to turn onto your stomach," Francis said softly, patting Arthur's thigh a couple times before he followed the order, and through a few taps, Arthur found himself on his knees, facing away from his lover. He wasn't big on the position to begin with, finding the reds of the room less attractive to look at than the blond he was with, and he wasn't sure how he felt about being stared at, without being able to see some sort of reaction. Feeling Francis's body arch over him, a pair of fists gripped at the covers near him, and a voice blew into his ear, "Bear with me, the pleasure will wash over you in no time..."

He could hear the sound of a jar top being opened, and the small _clank _of glass against a wooden surface. After not hearing anything else for a minute, he was tempted to look back to see what all was happening before he felt hands cupping his ass, individual fingers cold and slick with something. Suddenly, he felt the hands spreading his cheeks apart, and one of the hands moved away. Arthur whined from the loss, desperate to feel that hand on him again. Although his next touch had brought the shaggy blond back to moaning, making up for it, and his volume increased dramatically whenever he felt one of the cold digits tracing around his opening. He curled his fingers into the bedding to fist it, unable to hold back his hips pushing back against that index finger, silently begging for it to stop teasing and to be inside of him already. He was going to spill again if Francis didn't do anything else, and he'd rather cum while he was actually being fucked this time.

Prying apart his lips to attempt to ask the older man to hurry it on up, he only managed to formulate half a word before he was wailing and screwing his eyes shut. Francis had inserted one of his fingers into him, and although it felt strange at first, Arthur couldn't help but sport a more profound blush whenever he realized that he could _feel _that finger within him, how it twisted and curled.

"...O-oh my god..." he furrowed his eyebrows together and clenched his fists tighter into the sheets. He could only wish to feel more of that.

And soon, Francis delivered that silent plea, and Arthur moaned loudly when he could feel two other fingers joining the first, not bothering to do them individually. Oh lord, it was just...Arthur didn't know enough words to describe this feeling. No word would truly cover it. The closest expressions he could think of were wanted and whole, but not even those sounded _just _right. He could think of that later whenever all he was seeing wasn't just shades of red, and all he was feeling wasn't blissfulness pouring through his bloodstream. Fingers spread apart, opening him up for what was to come, and Arthur was trembling by now. Francis smiled, watching the younger man's reactions with pleasure, already feeling himself grow harder just from the sight. Arthur had to do absolutely nothing to turn him on, it all just came with ease. Oh dear god, he wanted to be inside him already. But, first...

He worked his fingers for another couple minutes before withdrawing them. Arthur's breath hitched, knowing what was supposed to be replacing them. However, Francis's plan was apparently about teasing him into oblivion. Instead of placing his swelled arousal at his entrance, he leaned down and another heated organ replaced it.

"That tongue a-again...!" Arthur shouted, feeling it press against his hole, circling around the ring of clenched muscle. Francis even went as far to reach up to grasp onto his erect length, stroking it, as he pushed the tongue inside briefly.

"N-no, Francis, please...! I need you inside me!" At this rate, he'd release again before Francis could even actually screw him, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take.

Removing his tongue from within Arthur, he merely smirked, "Then I hope you can get it up a third time, my lovely _petit lapin_." Francis knelt down further to run his fingers back over Arthur's sac, this time running his tongue over them.

That bewitched tongue forced the younger to finally unravel, and he spilled himself into Francis's still stroking hand, crying out the Lord's name once again. He waited until Francis was sitting back before collapsing in on himself and dropping to the bed on his forearms, his legs quivering. He needed to rest for a little bit before the Frenchman tried anything else.

Francis wondered if letting him come was the best option, all while cleaning his fingers off. Arthur looked weary, as anyone would be, finding release twice already. Francis still hadn't come once, and his cock was throbbing, red with need to release. This next time would be the last, he was certain. Arthur probably didn't have the endurance to become aroused a fourth time anyway, and three was definitely pushing him.

Slowly recovering and gathering his strength, Arthur found enough adrenaline to push himself up and to turn around to look at Francis, who was giving him a longing look. Taking in his appearance was almost enough to get him aroused once again, but he had already come twice, it'd have to take more than that this time. He, instead, returned to the smile, looking back at him as if he was the most precious thing in the world to him.

Suddenly, Arthur saw red rose petals dripping down from higher up, being blown around, almost in a sort of vortex around the bed. Like red rain drops in a hurricane. He took a second to gaze at the sight in awe, when he remembered who probably was responsible for it. Turning to raise an eyebrow at his lover, raising the other whenever a sheepish grin appeared on his lips, he asked, "What's with the petal typhoon?"

Francis chuckled, "It's a motion detector in a way, I set it to go off whenever we had lied down in my bed. I guess it thought we were doing that, since we haven't immediatley began going at it again."

Arthur couldn't help but smirk, "You set this all up? Your invitation for me to come over here was all a plan to woo me into your bed?"

"I didn't plan on it being so easy," he responded back.

"You smug bastard," he looked at the rose petal vortex coiling around the bed, and thought that it would be in bad taste to let this romantic atmosphere go to waste. These swirling petals mixed with the reds, this wasn't just a bedroom in a manor - this was a red covered Heaven. He felt himself grow hard with remembering the feelings of those blessed fingers inside him, wondering how Francis's cock would feel instead. And once he felt his arousal begin to stir in his hips and stomach, he opened his legs again.

Francis blushed deeply, seeing his beautiful lover silently ask for him again, so glad to have been blessed with such an eager man in his bed. He crawled over to Arthur, and knelt between his parted pale thighs, almost tempted to stroke them again, leaning in slowly to take the delicate skin of his neck into his mouth, when he felt a twin mouth doing the same to him. His blue eyes shot open in response, surprised at the action, but didn't protest. He let his back arch inwards a bit, allowing the soft lips to kiss and suck wherever they pleased, his penis twitching in the intimate excitement.

However, he wouldn't allow himself to submit to the one he was supposed to be pleasuring as easy as the other did for him, and he reached down to take the other man's cock in his hand for the third time. Arthur keened, detaching his mouth from Francis's lovely neck, and curled his fingers into the older blond's shoulder blades. His thumb stroked the head quickly, pressing the pad of his finger into the slit and making the younger man wail out again.

They met in a fiery kiss again, every ounce of passion within from when they first started to even now. Tongues danced together, teeth pressed down gingerly on lips, breath was retrieved quickly before diving back into the ferociously wild kiss. They were in synch, they were together. Francis took the opportunity to press his weight into Arthur, to push him back into the comforter once again, breaking out of the kiss to move down to make sure the younger lord was ready to take him all in, leaving Arthur to lie in waiting - other than curling his toes at the delicate and sensitive touches that Francis was giving him. His green eyes looked up to see the roses still falling from the dark red canopy above, the petals swirling past his eyes.

So much red. So much beautiful red. The individual shades blended together, all to create one gorgeous color. Everywhere that wasn't Francis, was red; and, everything that wasn't red, was Francis. Those two things chained him down in this paradise, and he drank it all in gladly. Drank in the red, drank in Francis. Those things were all he needed now.

Francis began prodding at his thighs, opening them up more and spreading them _wide. _Arthur had never felt so exposed in his whole life, Francis seeming to break many of his boundaries today. There was nothing left for him to hide, his lover could see everything. Just in case, the Frenchman pressed one of his fingers to the Englishman's entrance, glad to see that it was stretched open enough to where Arthur wouldn't be too uncomfortable.

"Francis...please...now?"

Francis nodded, "Now." He reached down to pump his shaft several times to get it to stand up more, and it began to release it's beads of pre-cum once again. Gingerly taking Arthur's hips in his palms, he came forwards to press his dripping cock to Arthur's hole, the receiver rewarding his ears with a heartfelt moan and a couple bucks of his hips. Arthur needed Francis as much as Francis needed Arthur, and he pressed onwards, pushing the tip of his penis past the ring of muscle and into him.

He couldn't hold back an intense scream, his feet kicking out at the feel of Francis inside of him. It felt uncomfortable, far more uncomfortable than those fingers, and he gripped onto Francis's forearms. His head jerked back, turning from side to side, and his mouth fell open. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, his legs and feet continuing to squirm and kick out of instinct.

It nearly broke poor Francis's heart to see Arthur reacting that way, and he stopped moving inside him, his hands reaching out to take Arthur's cheeks in his palms and soothingly console him, "Shhh..._mon lapin_, the pain will subside."

At once, Arthur tried to breathe a little easier, stopping his kicks - but unable to lower his legs - and released the tension he could from his body.

"Are you alright?" Francis whispered in concern.

Arthur knew that it was alright to trust him, with all the pleasure he put him through already. Francis would make sure that he would feel amazing, he was positive. He just had to endure a little pain first. He nodded, unable to speak, and released most his killer grip on Francis's arms.

The Frenchman decided to just go on ahead and get it over with, so he boldly thrust himself inside Arthur, all the way to the hilt, and braced himself for the painful groan that resonated from Arthur's lips. The Englishman had to restrain his limbs from tightening up too much again, and stopped himself from kicking more than twice. Once again, Francis didn't move ahead, making sure that his love was okay.

In order to ease his lover's experience with all of this, whenever Francis began to pull himself out, he wrapped one of his hands around Arthur's dick, stroking it teasingly and rubbing the head. At once, Arthur relaxed, beginning to softly moan once again. This wasn't so bad, he loved feeling Francis inside of him, but there had to be _more. _He felt the man on top began to slide himself out of his body, leaving only the tip inside, before slamming his hips back inside.

Oh god! That felt...good. Arthur cried out, a moan following afterwards, and Francis was relieved. He took that as his cue to start getting serious.

He began a rhythm, rocking himself out and thrusting himself deep back in, revering the sounds and noises that came from Arthur's lips - proof of his approval. He began angling his thrusts, looking for that bundle of nerves that he knew would make Arthur scream, this time in ecstasy.

Arthur was losing his breath, his body losing itself within all the passion. Francis's cock within his tightness, slamming against him, his hips meeting his, those teasing fingers sliding one at a time over the length and tip of his rod. How much better could this get...? All of a sudden, Francis slammed himself deep into him, and struck something that made him feel so _alive. _He arched his back off the felt so great that he screeched out eagerly, his words choppy on his tongue, "Oh Francis...! There! There again!"

At once, the older man continued thrusting in at that angle, sending Arthur's entire body into a passionate blaze of euphoria. He felt perfect. He didn't want anything else but Francis pounding himself in and out of him. Nothing that he and Michelle did had ever compared to something like this. What they had done was a matter of procreation. That was sex. This...this was love.

That was it. Arthur loved this man. He wanted nothing more than this man. Francis loved him too, and Arthur could understand why these reds and Francis were his entire world at this moment. Unable to say the words aloud, as his mouth was too busy occupied with yelping and urging on Francis to go faster, he thought about those shades of red. These weren't just shades of red, they were shades of Francis. They were the shades of his passion. And Arthur only could want more.

He was nearing his end, feeling Francis thrust himself deeper and faster wasn't helping slow it down by any means, and he wailed out, "F-Francis..!" before completing and spilling his seed between the chests. The older man continued to milk his orgasm out, before he felt his limbs tremble and thrust particularly hard into Arthur's prostate, arching his back and calling out his love's name, the man on the bottom sighing in pleasure when he felt Francis's hot seed filling him to the brim.

After Francis pulled out of his love and took the man into his arms, he held his chin in his palm. His thumb quickly began stroking over the pale cheek, not sure exactly what to say to him. But apparently, he didn't need the words, as Arthur already had a perfect response.

"I'll stay with you," he said with a small smile.

Francis was a little bewildered, though he had silently prayed that Arthur would say something like that, "I'm glad," he moved the two of them so that they were under the covers of the bed, still holding Arthur in his arms, "I was growing a bit lonely here anyway."

"I understand the feeling," Arthur nodded back. His loneliness had been cured by this man. He didn't feel hollow or pained. He felt free. He felt loved. He leaned against the pillows, exhaustion tempting to fall into a deep slumber.

Francis smirked, "I just hope that if you stay here, you'll remain so docile. That pride of yours drives me up a wall."

"We'll talk about that in the morning," Arthur said, closing his eyes. Francis, too, relaxed into the bed, ready to pass out as well. Sleep began to overtake him, slumber pulling him into dreamland. But he wasn't fast enough to hear a snarky remark of, "But don't get your hopes up."

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**Thanks for Reading! **


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